


Reflection

by aishahiwatari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Chastity Device, Claiming Marks, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mentioned Attempted Sexual Assault, Mentions of Caning During Sex, Mentions of Cutting During Sex, Mirror Universe, Mirror Universe Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Consensual Restraint Outside of Sex, Oral Sex, People As Property, People Trafficking, Possessive Behavior, Sex Only When Pavel is 18, Slave Trading, Threats of Violence, Underage Kissing, Underage Tattooing, by an OC, inappropriate thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-16 16:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Mirror!verse fic wherein Scotty receives 14-year-old Pavel as a gift after he is brought aboard from a slave trading ship.He can use a protégé who can apparently escape McCoy's nightmarish Med-Bay and jury-rig torture devices from electronics left lying around.And it's nice having someone he can trust not to murder him in his sleep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Plot My Rightful Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086672) by [Demerite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite). 



> About the underage warning: nothing sexual beyond some intense kissing actually happens before Pavel is 18, but he starts out at 14 and in the build-up there are various thoughts and comments, movements and attempted sexual assaults towards that state of affairs.
> 
> It’s Mirror!verse. Including (and maybe especially) Scotty and Pavel, everyone in this story is a terrible, terrible person.

“Got something for you.”

Scotty glanced up from his work to look McCoy in the eye. He had known he was coming, of course, because his security system picked up on that sort of thing and if McCoy thought he had the best cybernetic enhancements available, he was dead wrong. Scotty didn’t, however, have the ability to scan for so-called gifts, no matter how suspicious they might be. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Although, thinking about it, McCoy had only vaguely implied that what he had brought was a good thing.

That was a thought process wholly confirmed when McCoy entered the Engineering deck, and he dragged with him a reluctant boy.

“More your department than mine.” Scotty was unconvinced, saw no evidence of enhancement that would make the boy otherwise. Maybe fifteen or so, not quite old enough to be thought a young man, he had sharp cheekbones and a pretty face along with a head of curls that were quite lovely. If you were into that sort of thing.

“We took him in with that last round of cargo from those Orion traders.”

“He sort of makes me feel like you’ve been thinking far too much about my sexual proclivities.”

“He hacked the biobed to convince Chapel he was unconscious while he snuck out. Richards tried to stop him and came up against the sharp end of this.”

Scotty caught the object thrown to or at him, turning it over in his hands to examine it. “Is this an agoniser?”

“It was one of my tricorders and a toothbrush.”

Well, it was hard not to be impressed by that. “Where’d you learn that, lad?” He asked, and was met with a sullen glare.

“He claims not to speak English. I thought you might have a bit more luck convincing him to find his voice.”

A bit more fun, McCoy really meant. He wasn’t particularly wrong on either count, though.

Scotty rummaged through a drawer in his desk, looking for- ah! Two circles made of small plates of overlapping metal, not quite the size they needed to be but adjustable enough to suffice for the moment. He pretended not to notice that McCoy’s eyes darkened as he slipped and fastened them around the boy’s wrists. Possessive bastard. Scotty would have to get him something nice in return. Later.

He touched the boy’s chin to make him look up and met his eyes. “I hope you speak English because if you don’t, you’ll end up right back in the med-bay with the good Doctor here.” When Scotty glanced at McCoy, a muscle in the boy’s jaw twitched. Understanding, maybe, or just healthy level of fear. “You try and leave Engineering, the plates in those bracelets will shift and tighten. Until they cut off your hands. Not a doctor in the Empire that can fix that.”

Behind the boy, McCoy looked vaguely offended by the implication. But Scotty only had eyes for his new charge, was watching his attempts to maintain his defiance in the face of steadily shortening odds. He clearly had intelligence, and that Scotty could use. But an overly disruptive assistant, one who might stab him in the back given half an opportunity, was more trouble than he was worth.

“Was there anything else you needed, Len?” Scotty asked, without looking away from shifting hazel eyes.

“No. Drinks tomorrow?”

“I’m buying. Unless this one stabs me in the back before then.”

A flash of life in those eyes, then, and an overly sullen glare immediately afterwards as though that hadn’t been enough of a give-away. Self-chastisement, next, and Scotty couldn’t help it; he liked this boy.

“See you in med-bay either way.” McCoy was smirking, Scotty could hear it in his voice, and then he turned and left, apparently satisfied that his so-called gift would be suitably appreciated.

Scotty looked the boy up and down. He was less skinny than a lot of the Orion cargo tended to be. Then again, he couldn’t have been in their possession particularly long. Some pervert would have snatched him up. And from the way the boy was eyeing him, he didn’t think Scotty would be any different. He felt a little ill at the thought.

“Right. Come on. I’m not having all and sundry getting their hands on you the moment I turn my back.” He jerked his head in the direction of his quarters, urging the boy to follow him as he went and then submitting to the many necessary scans that would allow them both entry.

The door slid shut behind them and the boy’s shoulders slumped even as he pretended not to look around in curiosity.

“What’s your name, lad?”

God, the boy was pretty, all wide-eyed and making a respectable attempt to hide how terrified he was. Were he older, and willing, Scotty would have loved to see how long he could maintain that defiance in the face of what Scotty had to offer.

Maybe in a few years. In that moment, the boy said nothing.

“Alright, makes no difference to me. Now, do you know how to put one of these on?”

He held up the object he had come in for, procured from the drawer of his bedside table for just such an emergency. They boy managed not to physically recoil, but it was a close call, and considering it looked like a torture device and Scotty had already outfitted him with technology that would sever body parts if he misbehaved, Scotty didn’t really blame him.

Still, the chastity device would be necessary if the boy were to make it to the end of the week unscathed. Their ship was full of violent, depraved psychopaths, none of whom would consider clothing a suitable obstacle to their ardour should they set their mind to it. And while the boy would always be around the Engineering bay, Scotty couldn’t watch him constantly. A layer of metal would make any would-be attackers think twice about their actions, both because of the additional inconvenience and the greater threat. If the boy was owned, then touching him would risk alienating his master, and given his position in the bowels of the ship it wouldn’t be difficult to guess who that might be.

Scotty had cultivated something of a reputation over the years, and people very rarely risked upsetting him. However, while he was happy to torture the nightmarish crew members that ran their ruthless ship, he took no pleasure from making kids suffer. He wouldn’t let on about that just yet, though.

“Now, this isn’t going to chop any part of you off, so don’t you worry about that. But it will stop anyone who gets any funny ideas about touching you, at least for long enough for you -or I- to do something about it. Because I don’t doubt you can do that -and we’re going to talk about that jury-rigged agoniser later, too- but if you get caught off-guard, it’ll keep you safe.”

The boy’s breathing was coming faster, short and panicked. Where the hell had he been before that meant reality was only sinking in at that moment? Had he never looked in a mirror? Had there been no creepy uncle who had told him what plush, pouting lips like those could be used for?

Shit, suddenly Scotty sounded like the creepy uncle. Change of plan; ease the sweet young thing gently into the rape prevention advice despite the strength and resilience he had so far displayed.

“Sit down, lad.” Scotty nodded in the direction of the bed, the only soft furnishing in the room, pointedly didn’t step closer and set the intricately sculpted cock cage aside.

Hesitant and looking paler by the second, the boy did indeed sit. Scotty let him breathe for a while before he sat, himself, but on the floor against the wall, facing him. He waited calmly while he was eyed with acute suspicion.

The boy was tired, though, and he sagged after a few moments with a sigh, licked his lips a few times and swallowed. “Pavel,’ he said, hoarse and accented and so, so young. “My name is Pavel.”

“Nice to meet you, Pavel. I’m Scotty. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Too fast, too high-pitched. Far too adorable. “Try again.”

Pavel looked guilty, or sulky. It was too early to tell. “Sixteen.”

Jesus Christ. That wasn’t true, either. Scotty was in a lot of trouble. “So- fourteen then?”

A sullen, reluctant nod. Sharp, terrified eyes gauged Scotty’s reaction.

“I want to explain about the cage. And the bracelets. You don’t like my offer, you can wander around out there ‘til you find someone who makes one you can’t refuse.”

Pavel seemed to understand the phrasing, at least. He nodded just a little.

“You have no reason to trust me but I have no reason to trust you, either. That’s my insurance. I know you’re not running around behind my back, conspiring against me. Maybe McCoy got to you first, I don’t know. And you’ll stay here in Engineering where I can keep an eye on you. That’ll work out in your favour, too, with a face like that. The cage is the same. Anybody who gets that far will not only struggle to get any further, they’ll also know you belong to me.”

His voice may have gone a little dark at the end. But Pavel might have reddened a little, too, and wasn’t that interesting.

“Do you want to see it again?” Scotty asked, with a nod to the cage set on the bedside table.

Pavel glanced at him in a sort of request for permission -and, fuck, Scotty was in so much trouble- before reaching back to pick it up himself. He turned it over in slender, delicate fingers, traced the lines, fine and flexible in between the solid metal that shaped the structure, the plated scales that made up the harness.

Again, Scotty would have to fit one properly to get it right and he said as much, to wide eyes and a delicious flush across those sharp cheekbones. Fourteen. Jesus.

“So this would be- while I am out there?”

“You can wear it in here if you want. Some people like that.”

Pavel decidedly did not appreciate that little joke. He glared and when he spoke it was through gritted teeth. “You mean I would belong to you. In every sense. Do you not?”

“You may or may not believe me, but no.”

“You would not want-“ Pavel bit his lip. God, he couldn’t even say the words.

“Where you’re from, do they have the phrase- let’s not and say we did?”

“You want to- pretend?” Pavel looked confused and also vaguely offended until he remembered why he shouldn’t. ”Why?”

Scotty had pocketed the makeshift agoniser, and at that moment he held it up. “How did you do this?”

“It’s simple.”

“Uh, I’d be careful saying that around here. You imply you’re smarter than Captain Pike and even I won’t be able to stop what happens to you.”

That made Pavel look thoughtful. “So you want me to help you with your work. Nothing more?”

“Well, you could tidy up a bit around here, but basically, yes. Although-” Scotty eased himself to his feet and stepped forwards very much into Pavel’s personal space, so he had to look right up to meet Scotty’s eyes, then pressed a little further, pushing Pavel onto his back and leaning over him. Pavel’s breathing quickened and he didn’t move or resist, even with the promise in Scotty’s eyes as he said, “If you stab me in the back, I will make you wish you’d never been born.”

He had thought Pavel had been stunned into silence, had not expected the reply. “You do not touch me and I will not touch you.”

What an interesting, gorgeous boy. Scotty smiled at him. “I need you to make one exception. Get your kit off, we’ll get this fitted.” He tapped the device still in Pavel’s hand, saw his eyes widen but also darken, the sweet little deviant.

“No funny business.” Pavel warned, too, as though he had any sort of standing to be making such demands. Still, Scotty held his gaze and nodded. He really did want them to work together. The boy’s mind was deeply fascinating, and Scotty knew they were both incredibly lucky that McCoy hadn’t indulged his own curiosity since that generally happened by way of an autopsy.

Scotty stood to give him space, and Pavel stood to undress, chin raised defiantly as he unbuttoned his shirt, hesitating slightly before laying it on the bed. He toed off his shoes, let his trousers drop and dear Lord, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

It was no struggle to remain un-aroused by the sight, though. Pavel’s body was skinny and angular, awkward in that way only a too-young teenager could be. Mostly, Scotty was just glad to see he wasn’t too bruised, just little purplish patterns around his wrists and knees, a dark mark almost hidden by his hairline actually as though somebody taller had backhanded him. It didn’t seem to be causing him any trouble, though, so Scotty resisted the urge to touch.

Pavel was a lot smaller, too, than anyone the cock cage had been built for, in all dimensions. Generally Scotty made a trade in the devices among the other officers who wanted to protect their interests but generally -thankfully- their tastes ran a little older. Scotty would need to build a whole new one, and he was making calculations and observations, muttering to himself without really considering where he was putting his hands.

It couldn’t possibly escape his notice that Pavel’s cock was hardening at the attention, despite the unfamiliar atmosphere. Scotty could remember being that age, when anything would have set him off. He couldn’t bear to prolong the task any further, would have to work with what he had, released Pavel to re-dress himself and grabbed his padd to get working on his design.

Pavel hovered anxiously until Scotty looked up at him, then asked, “May I shower?”

Christ, it was like having a compulsively obedient dog.

One who could make potentially lethal weapons out of any electronic items Scotty left laying around.

“Use the sonic, I’ve got no water rations. And leave my toothbrush alone.”

Pavel looked surprised, but nodded, going hesitantly to the head as though he thought Scotty might withdraw permission at any moment. Or ask to join him. It wouldn't take him long to learn that Scotty didn’t have the time or energy for those sorts of mind games.

Also, he used a manual toothbrush.

He did have some boundaries, though, when it came time for sleeping in his quarters with a total stranger.

“I’ll sort you out with a uniform tomorrow, so you can sleep in what you’re wearing.” Scotty patted the bed beside him, and gingerly Pavel sat, clean and smelling of Scotty’s deodorant which did not make something deep inside him rumble possessively, it didn’t. “You take the bed. I’ll set up on the floor.”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“Mm,” Scotty agreed, tapping at his padd and standing out of reach. “You might change your mind about that, just- now.”

Pavel yelped the moment he felt the pull on the bracelets, then turned wide, accusing eyes on Scotty. “What did you do!”

“Just stops you from wandering. You can move about six feet in any direction from the centre of the headboard. That’s maybe two metres. Then the bracelets’ll start squeezing.”

Pavel snarled, apparently too furious to speak and too terrified to move.

“That’s adorable. I don’t know you and I won’t get any sleep unless I know exactly where you are. Shout if you need the loo.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not that easy!” Scotty was already walking away.

Pavel muttered something in Russian that sounded deeply unflattering, but he quieted quickly when Scotty ignored him. It was difficult for him to relax, probably, since he was in the exact opposite position to Scotty; trapped in an unfamiliar place with a stranger who had already fitted him for what could be considered a sex toy.

He’d learn.

Just as long as he didn’t keep Scotty awake all night with his howling, they’d both be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

Scotty makes the cage the next day and it fits perfectly. Even Pavel seems surprised by that fact, although not as surprised as he is when Scotty locks it with a key he then presses into Pavel’s hand.

“Last place anyone’ll ever think to look for it,” he says, and Pavel smiles.

-

It’s three months before Pavel storms into Scotty’s quarters, his shirt torn and darkened with blood, eyes blazing, jaw set. Scotty looks up from his padd and stares, and not just because Pavel is stripping off his shirt as he strides purposefully towards the head. His hair is matted, too, and his shirt is heavy with blood when it slaps onto the floor, but there’s not a scratch on him.

The shower comes on, even though Scotty’s sure he has no water rations left, and he busies himself with- something, so he doesn’t have to think too much about any of it.

By the time the water shuts off, he’s so absorbed in calculations that Pavel is able to remove the padd from his hands and climb into his lap, straddling his thighs and settling against him before Scotty registers that he’s being cuddled.

Pavel presses his face to Scotty’s neck and inhales, as though he could find any sort of comfort in the scent of clean sweat, depleted dilithium and engine oil. He’s wearing soft sleep pants and a shirt that’s definitely Scotty’s, and his breathing only begins to calm when Scotty sets a palm on the small of his back, resting the other on the least questionable patch of thigh he can reach.

“Richards touched me.”

Scotty feels Pavel’s smile when he unintentionally snarls and presses his fingers into Pavel’s skin.

“He paused when he touched the cage. But he does not like you. He would have seen me as a challenge,” Pavel goes on, and then he holds up the padd he'd confiscated. “Here. Find him in the crew roster.”

Something tingles in Scotty’s gut at the thought of what he might find. Pavel has been taking to life in the Empire with admirable ease, picking up hand to hand combat and knife skills as quickly as he does everything else. So Scotty expects medical records, or a location tracker last pinging at a recently opened airlock.

Instead he finds nothing.

Literally nothing. There is no record of Richards at all, not in medical or anywhere else. Even using all of Scotty’s not inconsiderable skill, he can’t find a single trace. Security footage throughout the ship has been blurred or lost, and there are some moments when Scotty thinks it might have been overwritten with footage from earlier or later than the date on each file. Still, if he hadn’t been looking for it he would never have suspected. There are no records of any access or alterations. Pavel doesn’t even have his own login for the system.

“You did this?” he breathes, and Pavel preens with a sweet little hum as though Scotty’s praise could possibly mean anything to him. They’re close, of course, at that moment and in general, and Pavel has even tried to tempt Scotty into sharing the bed with him more than once, but by all rights Pavel should resent the power Scotty has over him. Instead he seems to revel in it. He helps in Engineering, does everything Scotty might need without a single complaint even though -Scotty realises with astonishing and abrupt clarity- he must have been insanely bored.

“Did what?” Pavel’s innocent little face blinking up at him might be convincing if not for the smudge of dried blood on the lobe of his ear.

“You eliminated Richards.”

“Who?”

“He was an Officer on this ship for three years.”

“Prove it.”

“His family-“

“He had none. Last remaining sister was slaughtered in a Romulan invasion three years ago.”

“The Captain-“

“Why would he suspect me? It could be anybody on board. Like the crew members he beat by cheating at poker last week. Or the nurse whose sister he was fucking.” Pavel sits up and stretches, looking so young in his oversized shirt but so fucking clever Scotty can hardly comprehend it. “If there is anybody who has upset you recently, I could make it look like they did it.”

“You are terrifying.”

Pavel laughs, just a little. “Do not worry. I will protect you.”

-

He’s consistently, perfectly devoted. Scotty has no idea what he’s done to deserve it, aside from not raping the poor boy, but it’s- nice. To have someone he feels like he can trust. Maybe it’s a plot. Most days Scotty doesn’t even care. Pavel has already suggested numerous improvements that can be implemented for their warp core, their shielding and the agonisers, and he’s let Scotty take the credit for all of them.

It means he gets to stay under the radar of anyone who might threaten him or worse, and it means Scotty comes to rely on him completely and absolutely.

And yet, he never does anything that Scotty tells him not to. Even when it’s obvious that he wants, one word and he subsides. He could cover his tracks, Scotty never doubts that, but nobody can dispute physically being able to see someone and Pavel never strays far. He always comes back when he’s been sent on an errand to another part of the bay, and it doesn’t take him long to convince Scotty about sharing that bed. Scotty has no idea how he learns to sleep with a slim, warm body so close to his, but he does.

Countless people suffer stab wounds of varying intensity and three more are mysteriously disappeared before the crew learn not to touch Pavel, even though McCoy gets the blame for one of them. Thankfully he seems pleased by the attention. He gives Pavel a friendly little wink every time he sees him, anyway, often enough that Scotty begins to regret helping him with that bionic eye.

“He likes you,” he growls at Pavel, when they get a moment alone, and Pavel just shrugs.

“I helped him.”

“Why?”

That gets more of a reaction, but since it’s Pavel looking at him like he’s some sort of idiot, it’s hardly an improvement. “He brought me to you. You don’t need to be jealous. He knows I belong to you.”

It’s more or less exactly what Scotty wants to hear. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

So yes, alright, he’s violently possessive of the boy, while also not taking advantage of his many and varied charms. It’s frustrating not only for him but for Pavel, who fends off advances left, right and centre then pushes into Scotty’s arms every night.

Then Scotty sets up the tattoo machine one night, because Pike wants to brand some traitors or some such nonsense, and he catches Pavel running his fingers over the machine with such reverence that he can’t resist.

It’s something he’s been dreaming about for a while, staking his claim undeniably and permanently. It’s not something he thought Pavel would ever go along with, either, but when he shows his boy the design, it’s all he can do to hold him back long enough to fetch the alcohol he needs for sterilisation. He doesn’t doubt that, in that moment, Pavel would tattoo himself rather than wait a moment longer than necessary.

Scotty only plans to do a small patch, once he gets Pavel in the chair, honestly thinks Pavel will struggle with the sustained pain. In fact, he’s so focused on his work, getting the white and then green lines as straight as possible, that he doesn’t realise Pavel’s heavy breathing and occasional sobs are down to more than just the pain.

When he looks up, and he doesn’t have to go far from the artwork taking shape on the outside of Pavel’s thigh, he takes in Pavel’s shirt, damp with sweat; his flushed cheeks; the redness of his bitten lip and the tears trickling from his eyes as his chest heaves. With the whir of the machine silenced, Pavel’s hitching, emotional breaths are the only sound in their isolated, double-locked corner of Engineering.

The whole ship could be falling apart and Scotty wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away. Pavel’s body is lax, trembling and entirely gorgeous. He’s undressed from the waist down and his thighs are a masterpiece of wiry muscle, one adorned with Scotty’s claim and the surrounding skin an appropriate shade of red.

Pavel doesn’t wear the cage much any more, only when he feels like he might need it. The shape of him is clear through his tight briefs, curving upwards towards his belly with an expansive wet spot at the head. If he’s so aroused by the pain but so obedient because Scotty told him to wait, he must have been on the edge for close to an hour.

His eyes are glazed and so desperately pleading when they half-focus on Scotty’s that his breath catches. Pavel’s been so good. He’s so hot and hard and wet that if Scotty so much as touches his cock, he’ll come then and there. He’s beautiful.

He’s sixteen.

Scotty leans over and kisses him, tears a noise of such utter need from Pavel’s throat that he has to set a hand on the chair to steady himself. He swallows Pavel’s repeated bilingual pleas and kisses him deeper, threading his fingers into damp curls and guiding firmly until Pavel laps at his tongue. He’s so inexperienced that it’s clear he’s never done it before, and the thought fills Scotty with such conflicting pride and dread that he groans aloud.

It makes Pavel gasp, finally gaining enough control of his own body to drag him closer.

Gentling the kiss and coaxing Pavel to relax without touching back beyond the point where their lips meet is possibly the hardest thing Scotty’s ever done. When he pulls back, Pavel makes a needy, lost little sound. He looks as wrecked as if they’d fucked and he’s been through a lot, is floating on an endorphin high. Scotty kisses his forehead in a move that makes Pavel’s nose wrinkle before stepping back. He needs to cover the tattoo so it can heal safely; a regen would only push the ink out again.

Then he gathers Pavel into his arms, much to his delighted surprise. Pavel snuggles into his chest, and although Scotty checks his security features before and as they cross the Engineering bay, his eyes are bright, roving for potential threats. He’s unspeakably perfect.

When he sets Pavel down on the bed with all due reverence, Pavel winds his arms around Scotty’s neck until he gives in and lays next to him.

“You will permanently mark me, but not fuck me. Why?”

Scotty buries his face in a slim, sweat-tacky throat and sighs. Pavel strokes his hair. He’s so warm.

“You’re too young, lad. You didn’t choose to be here. It wouldn’t be fair of me. You can still go either way, you know. And I’ll be the man to either bring you into this life or save you from it. But you can’t make that decision yet.”

Pavel hums a sort of thoughtful agreement, then after a while asks, “Would you come with me? Away from here?”

Scotty doesn’t want to think about Pavel leaving, but he can’t contemplate going himself, either. “I can’t. I’ve chosen this. It’s a part of me now, and better I’m pointed at enemies of the Empire than-“ he doesn’t want to finish that thought, doesn’t need to, curls a hand over Pavel’s waist instead to pull him closer, Pavel’s side pressed all along his front.

“You would never hurt me.”

“No.” Scotty meets Pavel’s eyes, then because of course he wouldn’t, not if there were any other way. “But I’d protect you. I’d kill anyone who touched you, and I’d tinker and experiment and I’d create means for mass slaughter. It’d never work.”

“I like your inventions.” Pavel’s dangerously dreamy-eyed, and Scotty knows it’s coming but does nothing to stop it when he raises his head to kiss him. And then he kisses back, pushing Pavel into the bed with a hand on his throat and following him down. Pavel may have no experience but he learns quickly and he goes where Scotty leads him until their tongues slide together, hot and wet. Pavel’s little whimper makes Scotty want to growl and claim him, touch him and take until he can’t remember anyone else.

Somehow he doesn’t. Somehow, he resists kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks and mussed curls, even though he knows they’ve crossed a line they can’t come back from, and goes to build something while a gorgeous boy who wants him sleeps in his bed.

He’s fucked.

-

Pavel’s tattoo is on his right thigh and he loves it. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately considering the fracturing nature of Scotty’s self-control, it’s hidden beneath his uniform most of the time.

The first time Scotty sees it as he’d intended, there’s a mutiny. Some genius thinks Pike isn’t young enough any more, and she has a surprising amount of support, too, mostly under the younger members of the crew. They think Pavel wants to join them. That he might want to escape from Scotty’s clutches.

They are very, very wrong.

The ten of them barricade themselves in Engineering while Scotty visits McCoy to discuss their bio weapon ideas. They last a grand total of four point eight minutes, and only that long because Pavel doesn’t bother to finish them off once he’s sure they’ll bleed out.

In return, they leave him with a heavily bleeding gash over his brow, a third-degree phaser burn across the back of his shoulder and a thoroughly torn uniform. Scotty’s not watching the camera, but if he were, he would see Pavel press his hand to the stab wound of one mutineer, then smear the blood over his exposed thigh.

He doesn’t pause to admire the effect, just stalks out the door, slipping his bracelets off as he goes. He strides past the baffled enforcement team, easily informing their leader that Doctor McCoy will want the corpses for his research and moderately wounding the one yeoman who doesn’t get out of his way fast enough.

McCoy stops mid-sentence when he sees him in the doorway to the med-bay, grinning and beckoning him over to a biobed close to where he and Scotty are standing.

Scotty stares, and not just because none of his security measures have alerted him to whatever happened. “You’ve been able to get those bracelets off the whole time, haven’t you?”

Pavel shrugs, then hisses. His uniform shirt has a hole in the back where the edges of the fabric have melted to his skin. It has to be agonising. “Took me a couple of weeks.”

For Pavel, that’s a lifetime. Scotty sighs and stands, circling around behind him. “All at once or slowly?”

“Just do it.”

Scotty cuts the back from the rest of Pavel’s shirt with a laser scalpel then grips it tight and yanks. Pavel shrieks. McCoy is there to slap a dressing over the blood that begins to flow, and then sets to work with the regen. Pavel trembles, tense but silent. Scotty’s hard and no longer able to see why he shouldn’t be.

When Pavel reaches for his hand, it’s so uncharacteristic that Scotty takes it out of surprise, goes where Pavel pulls him until his fingers are on that bared thigh. The slightly raised lines of magnetic ink just beneath the surface repel the liquid smeared over them so that the green and white lines show out clearly against a backdrop of blood-red, a living embodiment of the Scott family tartan.

It’s fantastic.

McCoy leans over to peer at whatever has caught his attention. “Looks good.”

Scotty glares and covers the pattern with his palm. McCoy just laughs at him. When Scotty looks to Pavel, his eyes are knowing. His hair is matted with blood, one eye almost glued shut with what’s dripped down. He bears the pain of regeneration with barely gritted teeth and licks his lips when his eyes tick down to Scotty’s telling bulge.

He’s a bloody nightmare in every way.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not happening in my damn med-bay.”

“Well, it serves you right for cultivating such a romantic atmosphere.” Scotty shrugs. Behind a curtain, someone is screaming and has been for the last thirty minutes. One of the overhead lights flickers even though there’s no electrical reason why it should. Enforcement have begun to arrive with the corpses and pile them unceremoniously in the fridge unit.

“It is nice, isn’t it?” McCoy muses. Some of Pavel’s blood trickles down his wrist.

-

Engineering is drenched in blood. Even the air smells like burnt flesh.

Pike has sent crew down to help them clear up. And a bottle of Saurian brandy.

“So much for flying under the radar,” Scotty sighs.

“It is not my fault I excel at everything I do and look radiant doing it.” Pavel doesn’t make eye contact, but he smiles. “If you are still busy being restrained and respectful, how about a little more ink?”

-

Pavel has two thick bands of carefully arranged green and white lines around his thighs by the time Scotty finally snaps. He tattoos little and often, so as not to affect Pavel’s range of movement too much. Inking the backs of his legs isn’t so bad; suspecting Pavel’s cock is hard and flushed and leaking is not the same as having to witness it. Seeing the size of the wet spot on the sheets of their bed -since Scotty got fed up with moving them from Engineering at the end of every session- not the same as seeing it. Smelling it. Spreading Pavel’s legs and having to settle between them in order to get the right angle. At one particularly sensitive point, Pavel can’t stop his legs from trembling and Scotty has to hold him still. He leaves fingerprint bruises as well as lines of ink in perfect, porcelain skin that day.

He dreads repeating that experience but cannot resist in the end. Pavel is so calm and quiet and obedient as he lays back. He wears the bracelets, still, because they mark where he belongs, and they clink together gently as he crosses his wrists above his head. It’s apparently the only way he can resist reaching out.

By that point, just the sound of the machine whirring before it so much as touches his skin is enough to get him hard. Scotty fusses with equipment and inks a little longer than necessary, watching out of the corner of his eye. Pavel is relaxed, eyes lidded, legs splayed in a hopelessly attractive sprawl. His briefs are black, material somewhat shiny and so tight that, when his erection fights the confines, Scotty can see the ridge of the head.

He’s breathing a little heavily himself as he sets his hands to warm skin, and arranges Pavel to his liking. Pavel never resists, not even when it has to be uncomfortable, half-watching lazily. He pants when the needles are set to his skin, arches his back and fucking mewls when Scotty reaches the highest point on the inside of his thigh. Scotty imagines he can feel the heat of Pavel’s groin radiating, and it would be so easy to touch but he doesn’t.

He has to pin Pavel’s leg to the bed to stop him shaking as he traces the line down sensitive skin, follows it back up again. Some of the green lines are very thick, and take multiple passes. The angles are different from the other side, and Scotty genuinely doesn’t mean to but he just brushes Pavel’s warm, heavy balls with the back of his hand, find the fabric damp with his sweat. Scotty wants to press his tongue to that same spot and then work his way up to the source of that musky, salty scent and suck. He wants to taste.

He has to stop when one of his lines wobbles, sets the gun aside and wipes at the mess he’s left. Pavel blinks slowly at him; it’s a change in their pattern but he’s not worried, just curious. Scotty traces the lines that adorn Pavel’s other thigh, the mark of his claim. Everlasting.

He never suggested it, has always followed Pavel’s lead, given him every chance to say that he wants to go.

But the whole way through, his gorgeous boy -definitely a young man, now- has been the only one of them with no doubt whatsoever about what they have. He’s been telling Scotty what and who he wants since the very beginning.

Scotty twists his body, lowers his head and presses a kiss to that damp spot over the head of Pavel’s cock. The soft, breathy moan he gets in response is a revelation, and he tongues and mouths at the fabric until he earns another, then he eases Pavel’s briefs down. Pavel is no help whatsoever, off in some fuzzy pain and pleasure-drenched headspace that leaves him lax and pliant, an offering in itself with the nature of the world they both inhabit.

He tastes exquisite when Scotty finally flattens his tongue against the underside of his cock, sweet and salty. Scotty takes him in his mouth, careful of his teeth and conscious that Pavel has, by all accounts, never experienced this before. Still, Pavel doesn’t buck or twitch, just moans and allows Scotty to do what he will, breathing coming faster, bracelets chiming gently together as he arches just a little and spills onto Scotty’s tongue.

Scotty swallows him down, lets him begin to soften in his mouth then pulls gently back. He sheds his shirt, his boots, his trousers and pants, reaches for a knife always close at hand and cuts Pavel’s shirt from him, then gathers him in his arms. Pavel hums sweetly and curls into him, finding the coordination necessary to hook a leg over Scotty’s waist. The movement brings them closer, trapping Scotty’s own erection between their stomachs, gliding across the lightly ridged planes of Pavel’s abdominals.

He sees a curly head tilt as Pavel looks down between them and then slim, sure fingers close around his length and Scotty shudders.

“I have thought about this for a long time,” Pavel confesses in a low voice, still a little slurred. He uses his thumb to smear pre-come over the head, looks up to meet Scotty’s eyes before licking it clean. “You made me wait so long.”

“Not any more. You have me.”

Pavel smiles, tilts his head up a little further and responds sloppily to Scotty’s kiss, half his attention on mapping Scotty’s cock with his fingers. He’s gentle and teasing and after long moments Scotty finds out why.

“I want you inside me,” is whispered against Scotty’s lips, and it’s the the most arousing thing he’s ever heard. He’s reaching for lubricant, breaking their kiss for the barest minimum moment of leaning over to the bedside table and then diving back in once it’s clenched safely in his fist. He shoves Pavel down onto his back and holds him there with a one hand wrapped around his throat while he lubes the other.

“It’ll hurt,” he warns in the instant before he pushes his finger past the tight rim of Pavel’s hole and is rewarded with a blissful groan. Pavel’s tight, so tight, so hot, but he wriggles and shoves down like he wants more even though every time he does it, Scotty’s grip tightens on his throat.

“Only you,” Pavel pants, answering a question Scotty hadn’t managed to ask, too distracted by the clutch of muscle, the velvety soft passage he’ll soon have his cock buried inside. “I’ve only ever come by my own hand. And never thought of anyone but you.”

Scotty shoves another finger in before he’s really ready, leans up to swallow Pavel’s cry, nothing like an objection. Pavel’s cock is starting to harden, pulses out a bead of pre-come when Scotty just brushes his prostate. He’s sensitive and gorgeously uninhibited, just made to take cock. Scotty presses in with a third finger without applying more lube, slowly but firmly, just to hear him whine and pant with the burn of the stretch, to watch him flush as his chest heaves.

“I hope you know,” Scotty begins, moving his hand from Pavel’s throat to clench a fist in his hair -God he loves those curls- and pull, exposing his vulnerable throat for biting kisses. “This is it, now. I’m never letting you go. I’ll plug you to keep you open for me and I’ll fuck you whenever I want. I’ll tie you down and bite you, cane you, cut you ‘til you’re sobbing, open you up and fuck you until you come without a touch to your cock so you scream when it hits the marks I left.”

Pavel whines, cock leaking steadily as Scotty traces circles around his prostate. It won’t be much of a task to train him to come untouched, to feel like he’s unable to come at all without something stretching his hole wide.

In that moment, though, Scotty needs to hurt, not injure him. He pushes more lube into Pavel’s lovely, puffy hole and then slicks up his cock, kneeling up to play Pavel’s legs around him. He’ll get them up to his shoulders, but for the moment he wants Pavel to feel the stretch, to struggle to take him, before he relaxes into the sensation.

He doesn’t bother asking if Pavel is ready, just teases that gorgeous, reddened hole with the head of his cock until he lets out a little keening sound, and then pushes in. He’s blissfully tight, Scotty’s perfect virgin boy, and true to form he never resists one bit, just taking everything Scotty has to give until there’s no further to go and there’s a tight, hot vice of twitching muscle wrapped around the base of his cock, the rest of him enveloped in wet, silky heat that shudders and caresses with every one of Pavel’s laboured breaths.

Pavel’s eyes are wide and unseeing, his fists clenched in the sheets until with a final, rolling shiver Scotty feels make its way down his spine, he relaxes those too.

“Good boy,” Scotty says, without even meaning to, but it makes Pavel moan, a blissful, breaking thing and feebly push his hips up. He wants more, and Scotty is nothing like strong enough to deny him. He withdraws slowly, savouring the heated drag, then shoves in deep, pulling Pavel up by his thighs to meet him. Cautious of the fresh ink, he guides Pavel’s ankles up to his shoulders and enjoys the way the new angle makes Pavel pant out desperate, over-stimulated moans with every thrust. Pavel’s hard, flushed cock bounces between them, too, unbearably tempting. Scotty’s mouth waters and his fingers itch to touch, but even with his own building pleasure, he can feel the arrhythmic tightening of Pavel’s muscles around him, hear his breaths coming shorter.

Desperately, he wants to see him come, to feel him clench around Scotty’s cock, the first he’s ever had. He slows a little, focuses more on the angle, places his hand on Pavel’s stomach, below his navel, and pushes to bring his prostate within easier reach.

With a final round of rolling, shuddering sobs, Pavel comes. He’s beautiful, his lovely cock spurting generously across his stomach, his cheeks flushed and his pretty pouting mouth hanging open, eyes wide and watery.

Scotty thrusts deep into him, circles his hips and lets the fading aftershocks milk a long, slow climax from him, revelling in the knowledge that he’s filling Pavel, claiming him from the inside. It’s sharper, somehow, more intense than it’s ever been, for him.

He opens eyes he hadn’t noticed he'd closed to find Pavel watching him, a soft and sated smile on his face as he raises a hand to trail fingers through the smattering of hair on Scotty’s chest.

It’s jarringly, genuinely loving and Scotty’s realisation of that must show on his face because Pavel’s smile bares teeth.

“You’re mine now,” Pavel says, as though there had ever been any doubt.

“There was never any question of that, lad.” And Scotty takes Pavel’s hand to bring those fingers to his lips.

-

“The boy finally told you he turned eighteen, then,” McCoy says, the next day, as they play cards and share whiskey in Scotty’s office. It is decidedly not a question.

Scotty frowns at his cards, risks asking, “How did you know that?”

“Sub-dermal chip.”

There is no way that’s possible. Scotty knows Pavel’s body almost as well as his own, has spent years memorising the lines he could see and touch and the previous night exploring what he hadn’t allowed himself to- appreciate. Hang on. “Where?” He asks, with rising suspicion.

McCoy just smirks at him. He dodges the bottle Scotty shoves at him, too, meets Scotty’s miniature phaser grenade with a handful of powder that burns when it touches Scotty’s skin. The fight devolves from there into glorified rolling around on the floor, the table cast aside and cards flying everywhere, until Scotty ends up on top and gets one of his magnetic leashes around McCoy’s neck only to grit his teeth at the hypospray pressed into his femoral pulse point, close to his hip.

“You don’t fucking touch him,” he snarls, and he’d do it, he would. He’d kill the closest thing he has to a friend if he so much as threatened Pavel.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to take the chip out?”

Scotty releases the leash -what’s the point?- and rolls onto his back. The hypospray disappears, secreted somewhere on McCoy’s person and likely filled with something that will cause a painful death to whomever eventually bears the brunt of it.

“Just patch me into the feed,” he says, and McCoy laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it common knowledge that tartan is different for every Scottish family? The Scott family tartan is red, crossed with green lines. In each set of four lines, the middle two have white lines within them.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the wonderful Demerite and her fantastic similarly-themed Mirror Gabriel Lorca/Mirror Jim Kirk work, Plot My Rightful Place. You'll find the link at the top of the page.
> 
> Please consider taking a look if you enjoyed reading this!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182348) by [Demerite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite)




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